


Death of a Villain

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Spoiler Alert Spoiler Alert Spoiler Alert Spoiler Alert - for Season 3 Episode 6: Death of a Hero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 07:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7213870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT<br/>For Season 3, Episode 6 - Death of a Hero.<br/>Yes, folks, I've finally been able to watch all 10 eps.<br/>So this is my next stand alone.<br/>Another reminder that Constance and d'Artagnan are just friends.</p>
<p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death of a Villain

_Govern Feron's Office_

Hovering over Feron's shoulder, like the vulture he was, Grimaud was pleased when the governor forged a missive making it appear as if it was from Minister Treville himself. "By dusk Athos and his friends will be dead," Grimaud smirked as Feron added the seal and handed the missive off to him. He'd make sure this landed in the proper hands.

++++

_Garrison_

After relieving Porthos and Aramis of their winnings from their boy's games they had played, Constance went over to d'Artagnan. "This came for you," she handed him a missive. While d'Artagnan was busy reading it, Constance started picking out bits of straw from his hair. "Were you feeding hay to the horses again?" Playfully she swatted at his hand that was trying to bat hers away. "Porthos threw you into a haystack more like," she snorted with a glance at a grinning Porthos. "You boys," she tutted, brushing hay off d'Artagnan's clothes as well.

"What am I?" d'Artagnan huffed. "Two years old? I can clean myself, thank you very much."

"Oh you really don't want me to start," Constance brushed her hands down her skirt, turned around and left.

"Porthos, its a letter from Treville," d'Artagnan called out, seeing the big man start eating his breakfast. "We have to meet General Verdet's aide in Bourgogne and escort him back to Paris. He has news from the front. The three of us are to leave immediately."

Chewing his biscuit, Porthos scowled at the Gascon. "What... now?"

Rolling his eyes, Aramis put on his shirt. "Non, not now. Go to sleep. The war will wait." He heard d'Artagnan's amused laugh coming from behind him.

"I know ya said immediate, d'Art," Porthos kept eating, "but can't it wait til I finish my breakfast since I paid for it?"

Quirking a brow, d'Artagnan gave him _the look_. "Immediate must mean something different to you than it does to me, Porthos."

"All right," Porthos growled. "First Constance steals our money and now a Musketeer can't even finish 'is damn meal."

Porthos' grumblings drew an answering smile from d'Artagnan as he glanced over at Aramis. "Think we should wait for Athos? Let him know where we're going."

"Wait how long exactly? He's patrolling the refugee camp."

With a nod of silent agreement, d'Artagnan and Aramis followed a mumbling Porthos into the stables to ready their horses.

++++

_Saint Antoine_

Barely able to stand, Athos let Sylvie help him back to the garrison. Grimaud had caught him completely unawares and nearly killed him. If it hadn't been for the quick actions of Sylvie, Athos would have been dead. She managed to shoot Grimaud twice. Yet there was no sign of the man's body anywhere. Just a trail of blood. "I'm afraid the others are in grave danger."

_Garrison_

Wincing at how terrible Athos appeared, Constance quickly went to work cleaning him up. All the while Athos was priming his musket. "You really feel its necessary to go after them?"

"If there's the slightest chance they're walking into a trap, oui."

"Now what's so urgent..." Treville came walking in, his voice faded away when he took in the state of his captain.

Holding out the letter d'Artagnan had received, Athos didn't beat about the bush. "Did you write that?"

Snatching the missive from Athos' hand, Treville scanned its contents. "Non."

"I'll get the cadets ready to leave," Constance rushed out of the room.

"That message is a forgery designed to lure Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan into an ambush." Athos got up from where he sat and staggered slightly. He would not let his injuries hold him back from aiding his brothers.

"Who did this, Athos?"

"Grimaud."

++++

_En route to Bourgogne_

On the way to their destination, d'Artagnan pulled hard on Zad's reins stopping his mount. "Do you hear that?"

Then Porthos and Aramis heard sounds of pounding hoofs coming from a distance.

"How many?" Porthos looked at Aramis.

"Five riders," Aramis stared out into the forest.

"Maybe more," d'Artagnan glanced at his friends and then they rode out a bit further. Stopping to remove their weapons, it was then d'Artagnan noted who the riders were. He was still of two minds whether or not to shoot their leader.

Captain Marcheaux was surrounded by his Red Guards as they too pulled up. "Aramis, you are to return with us to the palace. The king commands it."

"We have business on behalf of Minister Treville," Aramis could see that didn't mean a hill of beans to Marcheaux.

"Are you questioning a royal order?" Marcheaux truly wished Aramis would put up a fuss. It would give him a solid reason to shoot the Musketeer.

"Oh believe me if we were we wouldn't be taking it up with the messenger boy." Keeping a straight face, d'Artagnan heard Aramis' low laughter beside him.

"If you come with us now you won't be arrested," still if Marcheaux couldn't kill the man, dragging Aramis off to the Bastille came a close second.

"Very well," Aramis dipped his head at his brothers. "I'll see you both back at the garrison."

++++

_Bourgogne_

Seeing the desolate landscape, surrounded by abandoned decrepit buildings, d'Artagnan stared at Porthos with raised brows. "Why would a general's aide choose to meet somewhere like this?"

"That's a good question. Let's go see what's inside."

Getting off his horse, d'Artagnan patted Zad on its rump. "I'll keep watch out here." Shortly after Porthos waved at him from one of the empty buildings. Joining his friend inside, d'Artagnan found out why Porthos was grinning like he had discovered a hidden treasure or won at a game of cards. Seemed his brother found a keg of wine. It really didn't take very much to make Porthos happy.

Grabbing a mug, Porthos filled it and then took a sip. "Oh it's gonna be a good day afta all." He then offered some to d'Artagnan.

"I imagine the general's aide will be a little while longer yet," d'Artagnan nodded his thanks and took the offered wine.

++++

Outside the building, forces led by Grimaud converged on the unsuspecting Musketeers.

++++

While back inside, Porthos relaxed with his wine. "How many battles did we fight?"

"Too many."

"Yeah, we served our country," Porthos finished his wine, "often and well. So if we're rewarded with the odd mission like this," he grinned, "I won't complain."

"In that case," d'Artagnan held up his mug, "I'd like to propose a toast," he gazed directly into Porthos' pleased face. "To easy missions well earned."

Nodding, Porthos raised his own mug. "To easy missions well earned."

Ears perking up, d'Artagnan heard the uneasy sounds of their horses and grew worried.

"Eh, d'Art, what's wrong?"

"Wait," d'Artagnan pointed outside. "Look at the horses."

"I don't see anythin'."

"Me neither," then d'Artagnan caught a figure moving on the rooftop of the opposite building. "Do you see that?"

"Non."

Getting up, d'Artagnan grabbed the keg of wine and began to roll it outside.

"Non, non, non, non, non!" Porthos protested.

"Shoosh!"

"Not the whine!" Porthos was more than upset and let the Gascon know it.

As soon as the barrel cleared the building multiple gunshots tore it apart.

Sending Porthos an _I told you so_ look, d'Artagnan pulled out his muskets.

"Bien, that answers that," Porthos took out his own weapons. "How many do ya reckin' they got?"

"I'm not sure but I can assume tis more than just two." Frowning, d'Artagnan realized they really were in serous trouble. "My ammunition's out there."

"Yeah," Porthos grunted, "mine too."

"How much on you?"

"Not enough, d'Art."

"When you were searching before you didn't happen to see..." d'Artagnan stopped at the look of regret written on Porthos' face.

"There ain't any other entrances or exits. There's no way we can get out through these boarded up windows either without gettin' shot ta pieces."

"Of course not because that would be to our advantage," d'Artagnan huffed. Nothing was ever easy for them. So why should this day be any different?

Staring woefully out at what was left of the wine keg, Porthos shot his brother a filthy look. "Of all the things ta throw out of all the junk in 'ere ya 'ad ta throw out the only cask of wine ta be shot ta bloody hell and back!" he shook his musket at the lad. "Well done."

D'Artagnan flashed a smile at his disgruntled brother. "Easy missions well earned, Porthos."

Then they both commenced firing at their enemy.

Bringing down one of their attackers, d'Artagnan had a glint in his eyes. "The last thing their expecting is for one of us to go out that door." Porthos' answering grin gave d'Artagnan all the incentive he needed as he dashed outside. While Porthos covered him, d'Artagnan dragged the dead man back inside and then he and Porthos removed any ammunition from the body they could find. When they were done both both men sat on the ground alongside each other, staring outside awaiting another barrage of gunfire to erupt.

Laughing, Porthos leaned his head back against the wall. "Afta all the battles I've been in I can't believe this is 'ow I'm gonna die." His dark eyes slid toward his younger comrade. "Watchin' that last barrel of wine spill inta the dirt."

Contrite, d'Artagnan offered his apologies. "I'm sorry about that by the way."

"I know," Porthos acknowledged. "Death is just mocking me is all."

"You do know we're not going to die today?" d'Artagnan raised a finger. "Not here. Not like this. Not now." At least he got his brother to laugh again. "I've still got so much to do with my life," he added. "Non, this is not my day," he leaned over and grabbed Porthos' large hand. "Nor is it yours, mon ami."

Reaching out, Porthos dragged d'Artagnan into a bear hug. "You're right, d'Art. They can't kill us today. We're too damn stubborn ta die anyway." He should have remembered that the lad, like Athos, was usually right about such things.

Then as one they yelled out... " _WE REFUSE TO DIE!_ "

Since fate had always been compared to be fickle like a woman, like a female it was fate's turn to be contrary this day.

So it was then when the gunpowder, that Grimaud ordered his men to set, ignited and blew the building up. When the dust cleared, there was nothing left but a pile of rubble.

As Grimaud began shooting into the debris just to make certain those Musketeers would stay dead, he heard sounds of riders approaching and knew it was time for his escape.

When Minister Treville arrived with Athos and the cadets, all it took was one look at the devastation and somehow they knew their men were buried under that pile of broken glass, boards and rocks.

Frantically trying to remove the debris, Athos kept yelling out. " _PORTHOS! ARAMIS! d'ARTAGNAN!_ " Desperate to reach them, Athos disregarded his bleeding hands that were cut from the glass he encountered.

In the meantime other things were happening elsewhere.

++++

_Mausoleum_

King Louis had ordered Aramis to accompany him on a pilgrimage to visit where his father was entombed, this being the anniversary of the king's death. During this time, King Louis forced a confession out of Aramis over that whole fiasco regarding the Musketeer and the queen a few years back. Making Aramis wait for him in the outer area of the mausoleum, King Louis made it over to his father's resting place.

There was another visitor at this time which surprised Louis. When he saw his brother Phillipe enter, he was greatly pleased. "I'm happy you remembered to honor our father as well." Then taking Phillipe by the arm Louis said, "Brother, come. I want you to see this." He then lead him over to another tomb that had Phillipe's name on it.

Overcome that Louis would do this for a bastard son, Phillipe couldn't go through with murdering him. Even though Grimaud was standing in the wings ready to kill Phillipe if he didn't. Phillipe listened to what Louis said next and was further shocked.

"I am appointing you to be The Dauphin's legal guardian."

Having now wished he had never helped break Gaston out of the Bastille, Phillipe hung his head down. It was the first time, in a very long while, Phillipe had ever felt this humbled.

++++

_Back at Bourgogne_

Staring at the mountain of debris, despair filled Athos. He feared all his friends dead.

Underneath the pile of rubble, Porthos coughed and tried to move his head. Noting d'Artagnan's hand peeking out from under the mess, Porthos stretched out his hand until he was able to grip the lad's. "Ya damn well better be alive, d'Art! Don't ya do this ta me!" he shook his brother's hand hard.

"Tis not our day," d'Artagnan barely choked out, every bone in his body hurting him.

Bolstered by the younger man's words, Porthos hollered. " _WE REFUSE TO DIE! WE REFUSE TO DIE!_ "

Hearing the heartrending cry, Athos was invigorated and ordered everyone back to digging their brother's out.

Finally freeing Porthos, the larger man gave them all an aggravated look. "Ya took your bloody time. Get d'Art outta there."

But when they did d'Artagnan was unconscious.

Holding the Gascon in his arms, Athos wiped the blood and grime away that had collected on d'Artagnan's face.

"'E talked ta me," Porthos fell down beside Athos. "I told ya not ta do this ta me, kid," he growled in d'Artagnan's ear. Still, there was no response.

"Clairmont!" Athos shouted. "Take Zad. I'll have d'Artagnan ride with me since we have no wagon to transport him." Seeing the growing concern on Porthos' face, Athos tried to reassure them both. "He isn't a Gascon for nothing, mon frere."

"Damn stubborn whelp," Porthos placed a hand on d'Artagnan's head, gently carding his fingers through the dirty, matted hair.

"Porthos," Athos chided. "If he were awake d'Artagnan would take you to task over calling him a _whelp_."

"Tryin' ta get a rise outta the cocky kid is all," Porthos mumbled quietly.

"What of Aramis?" Athos glanced at Brujon's filthy face. "Did anyone find Aramis yet?" So concerned over d'Artagnan he nearly forgot about the marksman.

"'E's not 'ere," Porthos gruffly replied. "'E's with the king."

Watching Porthos heft d'Artagnan up into Athos' arms, Treville steadied Roger. When a rider came with a missive for him Treville quickly read it. "Merde!"

"What is it?" Athos adjusted the still unconscious Gascon in the saddle.

"Gaston has escaped the Bastille," running a dirty hand down the side of his face, Treville felt older than his years. "And the king and Aramis haven't returned from the mausoleum yet. This is not a coincidence." Looking at his men, Treville gave his orders. "We head for the mausoleum!"

"I can't," Athos glanced at his injured friend. "D'Artagnan needs medical attention."

"And your _king_ needs you at his side," Treville's eyes fell on d'Artagnan again. "Pray the lad can hold on until we make sure of the king's safety."

++++

_Outside on the grounds of the Mausoleum_

Facing Grimaud and his men, Feron told him he wouldn't betray Louis. It probably wasn't the most brilliant thing to have said to an armed man.

Taking exception to being betrayed yet again, Grimaud stuck a dagger in Feron's gut.

After the men left, Phillipe somehow managed to drag himself to a tree and removed a small handheld pistol from his belt. Shooting it into the air he hoped Louis would understand that Phillipe was warning him. It would be the last act he ever did.

Having heard the gunshot, Aramis ran outside and noted they were surrounded by Grimaud and his men. He wanted the king to go back inside the mausoleum but His Majesty refused, wanting to fight not to hide cowering among the dead.

When they arrived at the mausoleum, Athos lowered d'Artagnan's limp body into Clairmont's arms. Settling the Gascon near a tree they went to defend their king.

Finding King Louis fighting alongside Aramis left both Treville and Athos gaping. But there wasn't anytime to think upon it as the fighting grew fiercer.

It was then Athos spotted Grimaud taking aim at his vulnerable youngest brother that filled him with a murderous rage. " _NOT d'ARTAGNAN, DAMN YOU!_ " he screamed and fired his musket at the criminal. But when Athos approached the area where Grimaud had stood, the man had vanished like smoke. At least Grimaud hadn't touched one hair of his beloved friend's head.

Leaving the dead bodies of their attackers behind, Treville and his men re-mounted, heading back to the palace.

Brushing d'Artagnan's hair out of his eyes, Athos concern deepened. Why wasn't the lad waking up yet? With all the noise from the fighting Athos thought it would have roused d'Artagnan by now.

"Concussions are a bitch, Athos," Aramis rode abreast of his captain. "You know that as well as I do."

"I won't feel better until d'Artagnan awakens and begins giving all of us grief when I order him to bed rest for the next week or so."

It was on their way back to the palace when they stumbled upon the deceased body of the governor. Feron's pistol laid beside his hand.

Waving some of his men to continue on, Treville, King Louis, Aramis and Porthos dismounted.

King Louis realized then that it was his brother's warning shot that had saved their lives. "He died a hero." As he gave orders to have Phillipe's body covered and removed, King Louis drew Aramis aside. Since the Musketeer fought valiantly to protect him, King Louis changed his mind about hanging him. But he left the soldier with a dire warning. "You will have no contact with Her Majesty or The Dauphin, even after I am dead."

"Eh, Mis," Porthos watched the king join Treville, "what was that all about?"

"I'll tell you later," Aramis walked over to where Roger impatiently stood, snorting his displeasure at having to stop once more. Looking into the drawn face of Athos, Aramis' lips tightened. "Let's get d'Artagnan to the infirmary."

++++

_Infirmary_

A day later...

Sitting up in bed, d'Artagnan found himself surrounded by his brothers. "What's the damage report."

"On you?" Athos smiled.

"Non," d'Artagnan nearly stuck out his tongue. "On the building that blew up," he scoffed.

"Mmmmm," Aramis rubbed his chin. "Aside from the concussion you have a nice array of injuries."

"Which are?" d'Artagnan was impatient to find out how long he'd be out of commission.

"Sprained knee, severe sprain to your left arm," Aramis ticked off. "Deep laceration on the back of your stubborn Gascon head along with numerous cuts all over your body."

"Oy," Porthos chuckled, "and bruises so colorful that an artist would be filled with envy."

"So not funny, Porthos," d'Artagnan winced as he found himself listing sideways but Athos caught him before he disgraced himself. "Something else is wrong isn't it?" He noted when he had first woken up the sad faces his brothers wore. At first d'Artagnan thought it was because of his own injuries.

"King Louis told me that he was dying," Aramis admitted, seeing shock fill the Gascon's features.

"Treville knew and yet kept it from me," Athos was angry and hurt. He thought they were supposed to share information.

"Yeah," Porthos patted d'Artagnan's exposed foot. "Said 'e'd tell Athos when 'e needed ta know."

"I'd have had Gaston under heavier guard. Now he's in the hands of Grimaud," Athos was disgusted with everything and disappointed in Treville.

"Trying to seize power the moment Louis dies," Aramis added.

"King Louis may live longer than he thinks," d'Artagnan struggled as his body began to slide back down inside the bed, batting the helping hands that reached out toward him. "We'll protect him and the monarchy as we always have." Holding out his right hand palm down, he waited for his brothers to follow suit. When they did d'Artagnan beamed at them.

"Yeah," Porthos winked at the lad, "all for one, d'Art, we got the message."

The End


End file.
